


Owner of my Heart

by AmphitriteHeraG



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, But whatever, Fighting, M/M, Makeup, One Shot, Therapy, almost break up, i'm making it sound way worse than it is, keith has bipolar disorder, klance, they're gonna be fine i promise, well actually its psychiatry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmphitriteHeraG/pseuds/AmphitriteHeraG
Summary: This was terrible and I'm not very happy with the writing I did :DOh well, hope y'all enjoyed me deflecting my trauma onto poor, unsuspecting Klance.I'll write something better really soon, I promise :/Peace out lesbians <3
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Owner of my Heart

“Because you don’t own me, Lance!” Keith screamed from the kitchen.

They had been at it for hours. Lance barely remembered how they even started fighting in the first place. Keith had come home late and a little drunk, which Lance wasn’t happy about. He reprimanded Keith about not telling him where he was, which Keith wasn’t happy about. They had attempted to eat dinner together at their table, which was no longer warm by the time Keith got home, but it just resulted in a tense conversation, which resulted in a fight, which resulted in Lance’s favorite glass bowl shattered on the floor, surrounded by the peas it once contained. Needless to say Lance was a little upset. They had fought before, but Keith had never  _ thrown _ anything. He presumed it was because Keith was drunk and for some reason aggravated, but it still wasn’t acceptable. Throwing things while angry implied something Lance didn’t like. Something that left an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was too violent for his liking, which he tried to explain to Keith. Even though he was incredibly angry with Keith at the moment, he was trying his best to remain calm. There was no use in them both yelling. It would just work him up and he wouldn’t be able to think rationally. He hoped that remaining level headed would calm Keith down along with himself.

That was not the case.

He was seated on the couch in their living room, Keith standing in the archway that led to their kitchen. It was a rather open living space, so they could see each other just fine.

At the moment, though, Lance wished they couldn’t. He hated getting yelled at. Maybe it came from a deep rooted fear of screwing up. Maybe it came from the love of his family and his need to keep them happy. Maybe it was neither. Maybe it was both. But either way, watching Keith’s eyes burn holes into his own as he yelled at him was not an experience he wanted to remember. His eyes brimmed with tears and he didn’t know if he should try to blink them away for the sake of his pride, or if he should let them fall. Maybe if Keith saw how he was making Lance feel he would stop. They could talk about it relationally.

He felt a hot tear slide down the side of his face and he supposed he didn’t really get to make the choice now.

Keith, however, didn’t stop yelling.

“I’m a grown man! I don’t have to tell you everything I do and everywhere I go! Maybe it’s none of your damn business Lance,” Keith bit out. Lance didn’t fully know how to respond.

Keith had been acting more and more irrational lately, getting angry or upset over little things so easily. He had always been a bit hot headed, maybe even a bit irrational at times. But this was different. This was new. The highs and lows of his attitude were swift and extreme. Lance had a rough idea of what could be causing it. He wanted it to  _ stop. _ Keith had always been so gentle with him. He was such a sweetheart when it came to Lance. The soft smiles and gentle brushes of fingers against his face were enough to prove that.

But as of right now, those soft smiles seemed so far away. Gentle whispers and loving words were like a foreign language as Keith yelled and clenched his fists at his sides, knuckles going white.

Lance wasn’t scared, per say, of Keith. He knew that no matter how angry he got he would never do anything to intentionally hurt Lance. It wasn’t like Lance was scared of Keith hitting him. God, no, that wasn’t what he was scared of at all.

What he was scared of, though, was Keith not calming down. Of Keith storming out the door and never coming back.

It had happened before, Keith leaving the house in the middle of a fight. He would sit on the front porch or ride his motorcycle to the nearest Walmart to cool off in the parking lot. Lance didn’t like it, but he knew it was probably best to give each other some space after a fight. It was still odd to him, nonetheless. In Lance’s family, if there was ever a disagreement you just talked about it. Sometimes someone would slip up and raise their voice, maybe storm into their own room for a moment. But for the most part they all tried to have calm discussions when needed. Of course, though, a relationship was different. And where there was passionate love there would be passionate fights. Especially when Keith and Lance were both so hot headed. They both wanted to  _ win _ when it came to fights, that was for sure. But the thing that made arguing really difficult was that it felt like if you didn’t raise your voice, your words wouldn’t really get through to your partner. It felt like you weren’t being heard.

Still, Lance tried his best to listen to what Keith had to say and keep his cool. It was hard, though, when Keith was screaming at him. He felt small, and he felt embarrassed. He silently prayed their neighbors couldn’t hear them. He watched Keith’s angry eyes with hope he would understand Lance’s stress and stop yelling.

Now, don't get Lance wrong. He wasn’t a saint. He yelled, he got angry, he could be the pettiest person you’ve ever met. He had a tendency to get jealous or snap when he was stressed out or anxious. Still, he tried his best. He knew Keith tried his best too, and he wanted to give him credit for that.

Right now, though, he just wished Keith’s ‘best’ was calmer.

“Keith, I was just worried about you,” Lance explained softly. “You didn’t answer my calls or texts and I thought something bad might have happened. And you came home drunk Keith. You drove home  _ drunk.  _ Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Lance questioned. He was pretty upset with Keith for that at the moment.

“Maybe I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life every five seconds, Lance! Did you ever think about that?” Keith growled back at him.

“I’m your boyfriend, Keith. Do I not have a right to be worried about you or know where you are when you say you’ll be home right after work? You can get drunk if you want to Keith but you could have- no, should have told me that you were going to go out drinking. I would have known you hadn’t gotten into an accident, wouldn’t have waited two hours for you to eat, and I could have come picked you up.”

“Well I don’t have to tell you! And you always wanted to control everything I do is really fucking annoying Lance,” he snapped at him.

Lance tried to pretend that didn’t sting.

“I was just worried about you, Keith,” he sighed. “I care about you, mi amor, I wanted to know you were okay. And it’s not cool that you didn’t tell me you were gonna go out drinking. I was waiting up for you and I didn’t know where you were.”

“Don’t ‘mi amor’ me, Lance. You don’t always have to know where I am,” Keith barked out. His tone indicated he had stopped yelling, but his volume was the same.

“Everything was so much fucking easier before you, Lance,” Keith grumbled.

And Lance felt like he should actually check to make sure he didn’t just get stabbed in the chest. With just those few words Keith managed to hurt Lance in every way possible. He tried not to let his face show the pain he was feeling in his heart, but he doubted it was working. Tears fell faster than they were formed and his lip wobbled between his teeth. How could Keith say that to him?

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered out.

“Maybe I fucking do, Lance,” Keith looked away from him.

“How could you say that to me?” Lance croaked.

It was true, he was very sensitive about how people felt about him. He acted like he wasn’t, but it was hard. He constantly felt worthless. Like an afterthought. He knew that nobody really needed him. He was just a burden.

Usually Keith was the one to shake him out of those thoughts. To rub his back and kiss his head. To assure him he was being ridiculous and that he was loved. That his brain had no power over him.

But today  _ Keith  _ had power over him.

There was silence in their home for a while. Keith avoided Lance’s eyes that were locked on him. He waited for something to happen. Anything.

He waited for Keith to sigh and gather Lance up in his arms.

He waited for Keith to backtrack his words and say he didn’t mean it.

He waited for Keith to hold his hands and tell him it wasn’t true. That he just said those words in anger.

Instead

“I’m gonna go for a drive,” he said sternly.

His face was emotionless as he grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys.

What really shook Lance was when he unplugged his phone charger from the wall and shoved it into his pocket, along with multiple packets of cigarettes from the kitchen drawer and his lighter.

Lance was stunned into silence.

_ Why did he need that many cigarettes? _

He watched Keith walk out the door without another word.

\---

“Baby,” Lance sniffled. “You’re really freaking me out right now.”

He was lying in their bed, covers up to his ears as he let the sadness of the evening take over him.

It was now 9:30 PM, meaning Keith had left four hours ago. Usually, if he even left their front porch, he would come back within fifteen or twenty minutes. He would always scoop Lance up and apologize for leaving, whether the fight was his fault or not. 

Lance had started crying after five minutes of him being gone.

“Please just call me back when you get the chance. Or text me or something. Just let me know you’re safe. I wanna talk about this,” he took a shaky breath. “We don’t have to tonight. We can just go to sleep and talk about it in the morning or something. We don’t even have to talk about it at all if you don’t want to. Just please come back or just let me know you’re alright.

Okay.. Love you, bye.”

Lance ran his sleeve against his face.

He knew he was pathetic. Leaving Keith voicemails begging him to come back, trying to bargain for his return. It was sad, but at this point in time Lance didn’t care. He was furious at Keith for leaving like that, but more than anything he just wanted him home.

He was sure Keith was sleeping at Shiro’s for the night, which both comforted him, knowing that he was most likely safe and with his brother, and upset him, knowing that Keith would just leave and stay at a friends house just like that over a fight.

Regardless, though, he tapped on Keith’s call icon for the fourth time that night.

“Keith, please can you just come home? I know I look like a fool right now, leaving all these messages, but I’m not gonna stop. Please just come back and we can talk about this,” he choked back a soft sob. “You’re making me nervous, babe. And all that shit you took made it look like you were leaving me for good,” he chuckled sadly and sniffled once again. “Please just come home,” he paused.

“I need you.”

And that was the last thing he whispered before hanging up and succumbing to sleep.

\---

When Lance woke up he was greeted by an unpleasant throbbing in his head and a cold bed. He shot up when he remembered the events of last night, sighing and falling back down onto his pillows when he noticed Keith was still not there.

He checked his phone that was laying next to him for any messages from Keith.

Lance, on top of the voice mails, had left him a few text messages asking what was going on.

They were read, but unanswered.

Lance felt more tears fall down his face.

Maybe he really was too clingy. Maybe Keith was right about the messages. 

Maybe Keith was just being a huge asshole.

Maybe Lance should just take the day off work.

He sighed and turned on his side for a few more minutes before reluctantly getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

He looked in the mirror and sighed at his puffy face and swollen eyes. He had snot dried around his nose, which really made him feel great about himself.

He splashed his face with cold water, not bothering to abide by his skin care routine for the morning. He then took some pain meds for his throbbing head and went back to bed.

He hoped sleeping would dull the aching in his heart.

Hoped it would soothe the nervous bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

\---

It was one o’clock in the afternoon when Keith pulled into the driveway of his home. His attention was directed to Lance’s car in the driveway, which sent a nervous tingle down his spine and straight to his stomach. He felt like he could throw up.

He unlocked the door with fingers he would never in a million years admit were trembling, before slowly making his way up the narrow staircase. 

When he finally did make his way into his and Lance’s bedroom, he caught sight of his boyfriend under a pile of blankets, snoring softly. He looked like he had been crying.

Keith slowly made his way to the opposite side of the room, treading slowly in an attempt not to wake Lance up.

The closet doors slid open with a creak and Keith winced at the volume. Thankfully, though, Lance didn’t stir.

He made quick work of shoving his clothes haphazardly into a duffle bag, along with a few pairs of socks and underwear. He was just about to make his way to the bathroom to retrieve his toothbrush when he heard the bed behind him squeak.

“Keith?” Lance called out breathlessly.

Keith stood unmoving, hoping the situation he was in would fly out the window, along with himself.

“What are you doing?” Lance rasped. His voice was thick with worry and panic.

“I was just grabbing a few things,” Keith said sternly. His voice was bitter and he chose not to look back at Lance. The interrogation reminded him why he was so angry with Lance last night.

“What? Why,” Lance hastily got up from the bed, the mattress creaking with the sudden weight loss. 

“Because I’m gonna stay somewhere else,” Keith bit out.

Lance made his way to the bathroom with Keith, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to shield himself from the loss of warmth the blankets were providing him.

“Keith, come on, baby,” he pleaded. His voice was laced thick with emotion and Keith knew he was gonna cry.

“It was just a fight,” he tried to reason. He made a feeble attempt to hold onto Keith’s arm, which was quickly snatched away from him.

“Keith, please. Just calm down. We can talk about it like adults,” he croaked out.

“Like adults, Lance?,” his voice raised.” So what, I’ve just been acting like a child this whole time?” he was yelling now.

“No, Keith, that’s not what I said-”

“That’s what you meant, though, right? That I’m just acting like a child?”

It was typical of Lance to treat him that way. Like he was just being childish.

“Keith, that’s not what I meant,” Lance looked down to his feet. “We don’t have to fight about this. It was a stupid fight. Let’s just talk about it,” he said quietly.

“Stupid? So everything I said was just stupid then, huh, Lance?” Keith scoffed. “So when you’re angry it’s justifiable but when I’m angry it’s just stupid. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Keith, no, you’re taking this all wrong,” Lance said with pleading eyes. “Let’s just talk about it, please.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Lance.”

“Keith, please, mi amor, this is ridiculous. And no, I’m not saying you’re ridiculous or that you’re feelings are ridiculous, I just-” he took a deep breath and thought over his words.

“This was just a fight, Keith. I was just worried about you, okay? I’m sorry. Please let’s just sit down and talk about it,” he said calmly. Keith didn’t miss the shake in his voice, though.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Lance,” Keith bit out. “This is too much for me.”

Lance felt his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach.

“You’re too much for me.”

Lance stood there with tears in his eyes. His whole world was crumbling around him as Keith angrily snatched his toiletries from the bathroom and shoved them into the duffle bag he had set on the bath tub.

Lance was in shock. He was in denial.

He stood there with his mouth slightly agape as Keith brushed passed him, pushing him lightly to the side in the process.

Lance tried to say something.

Tried to beg Keith not to leave him.

Tried to turn him around and kiss the thoughts out of his head.

Tried to cry and scream at him not to go.

But nothing came out as the man he loved walked out of their bedroom.

Walked out of his life.

\---

Keith threw his duffle bag into the backseat of his car before getting into the driver’s seat himself and slamming the door.

What the hell did he just do?

He slammed his head down on the steering wheel, honking his horn in the process.

His mind was racing with so many thoughts at the same time.

Lance’s face.

Lance’s voice.

Lance’s trembling hands.

He looked so broken and it was all Keith’s fault.

What did he just do?

Why? Why did he just do that?

He loved Lance. And the fight was so,  _ so  _ stupid. Keith had come home drunk after not telling Lance where he was.

It was  _ his _ fault.

And now Lance was hurting. Hurting all because of Keith, who he trusted to love him. To be gentle with him.

Keith punched his steering wheel. He needed to go back in there. He slammed the door to his car before jogging back up to his front porch. How was he going to go about this? His heart was in his throat thinking about how Lance would react. He tried to prepare himself, but the pounding in his chest and head wouldn’t go away.

Keith opened the door to find Lance on their couch with his head in his hands.

“Lance,” Keith breathed.

Lance’s head snapped up to his direction in shock. His eyes watered and he flung himself off the couch and into Keith’s chest.

“Keith,” he sobbed into his neck. Keith’s heart clenched at hearing his boyfriend’s cries. He knew it was all his fault and it hurt. But never as much as Lance was probably hurting right now.

“Lance, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean it.” He tried to sooth Lance by quietly shushing him and smoothing down the hair on his neck. He held onto Lance as tight as he could.

“I’m sorry, I was wrong,” he admitted. Lance only continued to cry. Keith held onto him in an attempt to calm him down but it took a while for Lance’s breathing to even begin to slow down.

As Lance quieted, Keith rubbed his back and attempted to lead him to the couch. He had a lot he wanted to say to Lance, but only after he was calm.

“Lance,” he began once they were finally seated. Lance sniffled and avoided his eyes, but kept quiet to be able to listen to Keith. Keith knew, though, that he didn’t deserve to be listened to.

“I’m sorry,” he ran his hand up and down Lance’s leg. “I don’t know why I got so angry. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. Or left,” he admitted.

Keith had always had a hard time admitting he was wrong. He was never one to apologize without being prompted. But Lance had softened him over the years. He had slowly cracked Keith’s shell and pulled him out of it with every kiss and soft word. He taught Keith how a relationship should be. How to understand and love. 

Keith, though, had been going slowly back into his shell, lately, the reason unknown to either of them.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them for a while. Keith knew not to rush Lance in this conversation. It was smart of Lance to take his time in thinking about what to say. Keith knew he should have done that himself last night.

“You need to talk to someone,” Lance finally whispered. He was seated in an awkward position, not that he really seemed to mind. Keith was holding him at the shoulders, rubbing his arms tentatively.

“Talk to who,” Keith inquired. He was clearly confused, not following what Lance meant.

“Like a therapist, or something,” he said quietly.

Keith abruptly stood up, Lance dropping to the couch on his side at the sudden lack of arms holding him up. He sat back up bashfully, arms going around himself.

“What the hell, Lance? You think I’m crazy?” Keith’s voice raised.

Lance sunk into himself. “I’m not doing this again, Keith,” he said sternly, although he was looking at the ground in front of him in an attempt to avoid Keith’s eyes. “You’ve been acting weird and it’s not okay. You’re hurting me. You’re getting mad way too easily and you only hear what you wanna hear. It’s not fair. You twist my words around and then we fight and I’m sick of it. I’m not saying I never do anything wrong, Keith, but I don’t deserve this,” Lance bit back at him.

Keith stood in front of him, stunned. He thought it over in his mind. Maybe Lance was right. They had been fighting a lot lately, but was it really all his fault?

“Why do I have to talk to a therapist?” he asked.

“Because, Keith, you might be bipolar or something. You need to talk about this with someone.”

Keith’s jaw clenched tightly. “I’m not bipolar, Lance.”

“It’s okay if you are, Keith! It’s not your fault if you are. But if it’s true then you need to fix this somehow. Maybe medication or something. That kinda stuff can really help,” he shrugged, still looking at his own shuffling feet.

“Gee, Lance, I didn’t know you were a doctor,” Keith rolled his eyes.

“Keith, you think I don’t recognize this kinda stuff when I see it? My dad was bipolar, you know? He would get mad so easily and he could never understand anything from anyone else’s point of view. It was hard, Keith! One second we were a happy go lucky, normal family and then the next he was breaking shit and yelling at my mama for something stupid. And you know what else he did?” Lance’s eyes found his own. “He would get upset whenever someone called him out. Even if he knew what he did was wrong, he would get so mad about people telling him they were upset with him or asking him why he did something. Sound familiar?” Lance bit out at him.

Keith’s eyes dropped. He thought back to last night and how angry he got when Lance called him out about being drunk.

“And I love my dad, you know that. I really look up to him. But everything would be a lot different if my mama didn’t tell him he had to get on medication. It helped Keith, a lot.”

“What if I don’t want to, Lance?” he said bitterly. He knew Lance was being rational, but it was all too much right now to admit that he might have yet another problem.

“Then this is over.”

Keith felt his heart drop a little at that.

“What?”

“You heard me, Keith. I can’t do this if you’re gonna treat me the way you have been. I love you so much,” he shook his head. “More than anything, Keith. But if you can’t do this for me then I can’t do this at all. I want the Keith I fell in love with. The one who’s  _ gentle _ with me. Not this one.”

And Keith didn’t know words could hurt so bad. He almost wanted to clutch his chest, to run to the nearest mirror and make sure there was no whole wear his lungs were. It  _ hurt _ , but Lance was right.

“Would you really break up with me?” he croaked out. He tried not to let his voice tremble, but it did.

“Yes,” Lance said sternly. And it was a lie. It was a big fat lie because he would never break up with the man he loved so much even if it killed him. But he had to stand his ground. Even if it hurt Keith, even if he was lying through his teeth in saying he would end things, he needed Keith to do this for himself. For their relationship, too. It hurt too much being treated the way he was by the man he trusted to love him and be gentle with him.

“Okay,” Keith whispered. And that was all it took for Lance to fling himself back into Keith’s arms. He buried his face into the crook of Keith’s neck to press kisses there.

“You know I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, baby,” he whispered. “I love you,” and the heat against his neck made Keith chuckle.

“I love you too,” Keith smiled into his hair, before gripping the underside of Lance’s legs and picking him up. Lance let out a yelp of surprise but laughed afterwards.

“What are you doing?” he grinned.

“I need to apologize properly,” he whispered before carrying Lance off to their bedroom to kiss away all the hurt he caused him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was terrible and I'm not very happy with the writing I did :D  
> Oh well, hope y'all enjoyed me deflecting my trauma onto poor, unsuspecting Klance.  
> I'll write something better really soon, I promise :/  
> Peace out lesbians <3


End file.
